


Some things you just can't refuse

by elliceluella



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: An ode to Matt's hands, Cuddling, Dorks in Love, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliceluella/pseuds/elliceluella
Summary: Foggy loves Matt’s hands.Light fingers trail the veins on the back of Matt’s hand, over the pathways his blood takes as they gear up for a knockout, whether in back alleys or in the courtroom, over thin skin that wrap around those bones and knuckles with a determination that matches its owner’s; split and bruised repeatedly but still here, still warm.





	Some things you just can't refuse

**Author's Note:**

> For the wildcard square of my DD bingo card: cuddling (with a little something extra)

Foggy loves Matt’s hands.

It’s a marvel how they’re capable of ruthless rage and gentleness and a good many things in between, entirely dependent upon the will of the man who will either wield them in justice or love. Foggy much prefers the latter of course, particularly at the way they’re able to take Foggy apart systematically and in an all consuming passion. Those hands have become an important piece of a mental collage Foggy started to label as _home_ shortly after Matt kissed him squarely on the lips red-faced and bumbling but so, so earnest.

That isn’t to say he hasn’t learned to cultivate a finer appreciation for those white-knuckled grips and fidgety fingers because he has: they no longer spell dread where the cost would be a world without Matt but rather a measured, balanced look at the man he’s come to love— has always loved.

He recalls the time they were spontaneous and hungry enough for a getaway that they accepted Danny’s offer to stay at one of his swanky albeit woefully unoccupied penthouses, remembers that magical night in the rooftop pool bathed in nothing but silver moonlight and Matt’s caresses, and how with every sigh that they brought out of Foggy Matt was the one breathing harder.

Foggy will always remember how Matt looked that night. His face left nothing hidden, his devotion and something else entirely different— something deliciously deeper and darker was Foggy’s to freely feast upon, his attention fixed solely on Foggy and nothing else. It was crazy intimate how every kiss felt like a long pull from a drink that left them both heady and buzzed, drunk on each other.

Foggy smiles to himself and brings Matt’s hand up to his face, brushes his lips over Matt’s knuckles. He smiles and presses it into Matt’s palm, and in a state of whimsy wishes that point of contact would carry over the affectionate warmth that’s been blooming deep inside Foggy ever since he laid eyes on Matt.

Light fingers trail the veins on the back of Matt’s hand, over the pathways his blood takes as they gear up for a knockout, whether in back alleys or in the courtroom, over thin skin that wrap around those bones and knuckles with a determination that matches its owner’s; split and bruised repeatedly but still here, still warm. Now it’s Matt’s turn to sigh, and Foggy’s to breathe a little deeper, a little harder.

Foggy likes that Matt— no scratch that, he _loves_ that Matt knows what Foggy wants and sometimes doesn’t wait for Foggy to ask for it. Matt shifts closer until his chest is flush with Foggy’s back, wraps both arms around Foggy’s middle, snug, and moves his legs so they’re tangled with Foggy’s. Foggy bites his lip so his smile doesn’t split his face in half, but Matt’s probably caught on judging by the little puff of air tickling the back of Foggy’s neck. He swats lightly at Matt’s hand but doesn’t move an inch because fuck, he really loves it when Matt spoons him.

“What’re you thinking about?” Matt murmurs into foggy’s hair after a while, low and rumbly, and Foggy relishes the vibration from Matt’s chest as it seeps into his back. He doesn’t bother trying to stop the shudder that runs through him because some good things aren’t meant to be refused, as his mom used to say.

He valiantly tries to be good and keep still, shoving his hands under his pillow as Matt begins tracing along the line of Foggy’s side from behind his ear all the way down to his hip, leaving constellations that sparkle on his skin in their wake. That trail grows into fancy loops and curves but Matt keeps at them like a pattern until maybe Foggy thinks they spell out _I love you_ in a language only meant for the two of them. And maybe they do, Foggy thinks, because his heart’s already telling Matt that much.

“Your hands,” Foggy answers, giving up on staying still and turning over to face Matt.

Matt chuckles, and it’s amazing how that simple action changes his dopey smile, making everything softer but still irrevocably _Matt_. He brushes Foggy’s hair to the side and kisses him on the forehead, again and again, each one softer and lingering longer than the previous until they feel like one never ending kiss. His hands never stray from Foggy’s face the entire time.

“Just like that,” Foggy sighs.

“Yeah?” Matt asks, but he knows the answer already, the smug bastard. He brushes a thumb under Foggy’s eyelid, caresses his cheek, slides warm hands down until they rest on Foggy’s thigh for a moment before hitching it higher and wider, deftly sliding his own between Foggy’s in a way that has Foggy rocking forward against him. Oh, okay then.

Heat pools heavy and low in his gut. Matt’s sudden grin is sharp and breathtaking. His hands make their way to Foggy’s waistband after a quick rummage through the bedside drawer, clever fingers brushing against soft skin as they curl around the elastic and make agonizingly slow work of pulling it down in between kisses.

“Yeah,” Foggy echoes, and gives in wholly.

It’s the sweetest— and only— torture Foggy would be happy to endure a thousand times over because Matt always makes it worth his while: hands wrapping around where Foggy needs him most, hard and wanting, fingers slipping in to stretch him sweetly when Foggy feels a whine building up at the back of his throat, curling up to tease at the spot that has him gasping and writhing and not letting up for a good long while before eventually relenting, swallowing all the noises Foggy makes with hungry kisses and fills him up, so full and hot and _right_.

*

Foggy loves Matt’s hands. He loves how they thrill, soothe, and hold Foggy as they fall asleep in a cocoon of silk. He loves that the same hands holding their city up holds him too.

Afterwards, he dreams of taking Matt’s extended hand, slipping his fingers into that steady, familiar warmth, a promise that he will have everything he could ever want and more as Matt whisks him away on an adventure of a life well lived with a happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee, because I wrote this while having the song on loop. Also 'Spider-verse' is such a great film, you guys <3
> 
> Come say hi [on Tumblr!](http://ellicelluella.tumblr.com/) or [Pillowfort!](https://www.pillowfort.io/elliceluella)


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